From the Rubble
by zazial
Summary: While Singapore hosts the world conference, Japan and England are haunted by the ghosts of the Battle for Singapore. Together they confront the first and last time they faced each other in battle, their own history and try to determine the meaning of guilt and forgiveness.
1. Pulau Belakang Mati

**Disclaimer**: Hetalia is not mine

**Warnings**: Mature themes, war

**Notes**: It's probably risky to write about this, but it forced itself out because I have been living in Singapore for the past few years and I will be leaving it soon.

Country names used, human names in speech to denote familiarity. Written in just a few hours during a time of night I should be sleeping. Apologies for any mistakes.

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><p>There was a time not too long ago that the act of cleansing - clearing a slate to create something better, stronger, and beautiful, relaxed Japan. It was better than living in the all-consuming terror that the outside world offered. Against so vast and mad a place, what refuge was there for a small player such as he? But hiding from the outside never took the terror away. Eventually he found that the only action which could provide even the slightest solace was productivity. So Japan worked hard, doing everything in his power to become stronger, to resist subjugation, and one day, maybe, he could accomplish enough to be safe. Perhaps by then, finally, the fear and helplessness would go away.<p>

And it did, at least, when he was awake. In the real world, the adrenaline and heightened awareness from battle blocked out all other unwelcome thoughts. There was only living, becoming stronger, pushing himself to the next level, achieving greater and greater heights of endurance, skill, fearlessness and vicious determined efficiency. When he was awake his enemies feared him, which was so much better than living with his own terrors.

At night however, there was nothing to stop the dreams. They attacked him constantly in a confused, mad rush. He could never remember them when he woke, except that familiar, unwelcome, all encompassing and shameful fear that shook his body and made him sweat. He decided then that the only solution to this was to avoid sleep entirely. He threw himself into battle, wrote poetry, tended his garden, served his Emperor and drew up more strategies. In return, his children adored him.

Japan stood on a beach, the usually peaceful sound of waves rushing to the shore was interrupted by gunshots, pleas and screams. He wondered if he should write about today. Bodies were strewn all across the beach. They were also floating in the now blood red water, and washing up on the shores of nearby islands. Young and old, rich and poor, they had two things in common to be here - they were male, and they were Chinese. Japan took a deep breath and immediately hated the instinct which caused it. There was no fresh air to bring peace or solace now, only the stench of death. He had fouled the air, the earth and the sea. Even though he knew that the greatest cleansing could only occur after the most utter destruction, creating that empty field he needed to build that better future was always distasteful and exhausting.

He hated that. He hated that it was becoming harder to feel clarity or solace, only the drudgery of war. But still, he now commanded Southeast Asia, he just had to persevere. It was always difficult in the beginning, he remembered how chaotic the early days with Taiwan were and just look at her now - his model colony. The Empire was finally taking shape and besides, there was still glory in battle. This however, was not a battle and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was no personal strengthening of character that came as a result executing thousands of civilians each day, maybe at best, it fueled his energy for the next time he faced his brother in battle.

He looked at his men throwing bodies into the large hole that had been dug, and the growing pile of vacant, dead faces. Some of them stared accusingly at him with open eyes - black eyes, black hair, with the same colored skin as his own, and suddenly bile rose in his throat because he did not see his brother's people, but a mass grave of his own face staring back at him a thousand times, accusing, monstrous and -

"AAAAAAAHHHH!" His eyes opened to darkness, where the hell was he? Was this hell? He thought there would be more but...

"Kiku!" A voice called out.

Faces, his own face, his brother's face, his children's faces. He held up his arms against them but to no avail. The corpses rose and chased him, screaming, reaching, the stench of fear and death enveloped him. They caught him and attacked, shaking him hard.

"Kiku wake up!"

"Let me go!" He cried out. He fought the arms, he fought the darkness and punched one of the monsters. After a brief scrabbling, a light suddenly switched on and Japan awoke to reality.

As he gulped down deep breaths, he realized that he was not standing on the beach. He was not even outside, he was in a regular hotel room on a standard bed and he had just punched Greece in the face.

"Oh no." He whispered. Putting his hands gently on Greece's face. "I am so sorry Herakles, I..." Greece did not resist as he let Japan lift his face to the light, studying.  
>"I'm sorry," he whispered again, still shaking from the dream. "It will bruise, let me get some ice."<p>

He pulled on a robe, ignoring Herakles' objections as he grabbed the room key and practically ran out into the hallway, swiftly striding down its length. Eventually he reached the end of the hall and cursed to himself. What was he doing? This was a five star hotel on Singapore-chan's resort island of Sentosa. There was hardly going to be ice dispensers in the hallway. He cursed again, turning around to go back to their room and call for ice but he heard the drunken footsteps shuffling down the hallway. England glared at him with bleary, eyes, smelling of too much whiskey and stronger spirits.

Japan grit his teeth and clenched his fists. England was the last nation he wanted to see right now, with Singapore perhaps coming at a close second. Actually, he could add China to that list right now, as well as Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, Germany, Italy, Australia...forget it. At this point, isolation was his only option...just for a few days. That was the problem when bad memories from World War 2 resurfaced. Everyone was a bad memory. But then he remembered one nation that was not such a blight, and that he just punched him. He felt himself fill with shame because he was not the best friend or lover that he could be, and as much as he liked to deny it sometimes, he actually cared for Herakles very much. Sometimes it was impossible to win.

England let out a huff, suddenly looking sober. "Right well...I'll see you in the morning session. Good night Japan." He muttered, making his way to his door. For one mad, drunk moment, England looked at him as if he considered inviting Japan in, but thankfully he just opened his door and disappeared inside. Japan let out the breath he did not know that he was holding and slowly walked back to his own room. He supposed he did feel a little sorry for England, who must have gone out earlier in the evening to get blind, mind erasing drunk, just to fail miserably, and suffer the consequences in the morning. They got along on most days, truly, it was just that sometimes they ran into each other at the wrong time.

He was caught in a whirlwind of unwelcome emotions, drained, scared and frustrated all at once. His thoughts formed heavy weights on his shoulders and he suddenly realized that he still felt cold. Odd, the air-conditioning was not that strong, and Singapore was tropical. Still, he did recall that it could get unexpectedly chilly in her home in the evenings, especially with the sea breeze.

When he returned to the room, Greece was pulling on a shirt, looking as if he was about to leave in search of him. "You're back." He greeted with his ever soothing voice and a smile. Japan could only look up at him guiltily, raising a hand to gently caress around the eye where he hit. It was already starting to swell.

"I'm so sorry Herakles, I'll call for ice. It looks like you will have a black eye...I'm..." he sighed, feeling terribly guilty and at a complete loss as to how to make this situation better. "I'm very sorry. Do you want me to move to a separate room?"

Greece only stepped forward and gently put his arms around him, making Japan feel even worse. He never really understood how this relationship with Greece came into being, but here they were. "I already called for ice. It should be here any moment now. I was going to find you if you weren't back by then. And of course I don't want you to leave. Please, stay."

Guilt flooded Japan even more as he looked up to Greece's serious but kind face, wondering what he did exactly to deserve such a plea. They stood there silently, looking at each other, when there was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, Greece let go and went to accept the ice bucket. Japan noted that the hotel boy's eyes widened a moment as he saw the swelling face, but Greece only smiled and closed the door before any questions could be asked.

"You know that they will inquire with you discretely tomorrow, when I am not next to you?" Japan sighed.

Greece shrugged, wrapping the ice in a hotel hand towel. "I'll tell them the truth, that my partner had a nightmare and hit me by accident."

Japan tried his best to hide his discomfort at that blunt statement, but let it be. Greece ran a comforting hand up one of Japan's arms, the other holding the ice gingerly against his eye. "Do you want to talk about it?"

They settled back on the bed, Japan allowing Greece to hold him from behind, chin resting on a shoulder. "It was just a nightmare." He answered. "From...from the war."

He felt the stiffness and slow relaxation from the body holding him, thanking all that was good in the world that Greece never saw him back then.

"I figured," Greece replied. "Is it this place? Sentosa? Are there bad memories here?"

Even in the relative privacy of the room, Japan tried to respond politely. "Well this island had a different name back then, and it was not a pretty one*, but frankly, there was fighting all over. Singapore-chan has managed some impressive landscaping over the years, it almost looks different enough to forget a lot of what happened, but not completely."

Greece 'hmmmed' thoughtfully, then with a frightening awareness asked. "Was your nightmare actually from the battle? Or what came after?"

Japan stiffened, and tried to pull away, but Greece had his free arm clamped around his stomach and he was not moving. "Do you always have nightmares when you visit Singapore?" Greece continued, "Or uh...any of the old places?"

He let out a sigh. Japan was feeling uncomfortable, but it would be difficult to go anywhere or move. However, if Greece had started verbally listing out all the nations that could give Japan these nightmares as he almost did, arm or no arm, plea or no plea, Japan would have packed his bag and taken the next flight back to Tokyo.

"No." Japan replied shortly. "Usually I am fine. I drink certain herbs in a tea to help me sleep." He eyed his thermos suspiciously, wondering if he needed to increase the dosage, or if something else was wrong.

"Wait," Greece turned him around and frowned at him. "You mean you always have nightmares unless you have a sleeping drought?"

Japan looked away, frowning in return, wondering how to answer. "I have always been prone to nightmares Herakles, before I ever fought in my first war, while I was still small enough for China to carry me around. I already had them. My brain has simply obtained more ingredients as the years have passed to create more complex ones." He did not say that it was China who first noticed Japan's shivering and insomnia, came up with the recipe, and taught Japan how to find the correct herbs and mix them together.

Greece shifted a little, thinking in that slow, ponderous way of his. He looked like he was seconds from falling asleep but Japan knew better. "You know Kiku, a couple of decades ago, around the time when Ludwig and Feliciano were trying to be friends again, they asked me very politely for permission to travel together to Cephalonia. They could have just gone of course, it's a tourist destination, but they felt the need to ask. I wasn't entirely comfortable at the time, but I couldn't stop them. Besides, tourism money is still money. I gave them permission, and when they came back I felt that something had changed. They were lighter. We talked about it. That's the only time I've ever seen Feliciano about as talkative as Ludwig, but it was...good. It's also good to scream about it with each other, and it's also good to let time run its course. I'm not saying that all is well, there are still days that get very bad, especially with my economy in the state that it's in right now, but for the most part, that part at least is lighter. Maybe if Singapore is agreeable, you can..."

"You still hate Turkey," Japan snapped. "Talking is not going to do anything. I have already apologized. Over and over again, repeatedly, offered reparations and given so much development aid that I'm worse off than some of them*. Those who have not accepted that apology by now never will."

As was usual, whenever Turkey was brought up, Greece's face darkened. "I still hate Turkey because he has never shown an ounce of remorse for killing my mother. It's different. What I'm talking about is...have you spoken to Rwanda or South Africa about their Truth and Reconciliation Commissions? People just go to confess everything they did in return for conditional amnesty. They're, I suppose you can call them...tools to help communities heal themselves so they can work together again without breaking up into another civil war. That's kind of worked so far. I mean, Rwanda still hates Belgium, can't really blame her I guess, but what I'm saying is...there's something about forcing yourself to relive everything, openly with the other party that seems to work for the long-term."

It sounded like the worst idea Japan had ever heard. Everyone knew what happened, and as far as he was concerned, the stories sometimes got out of control. He winced, trying to imagine having such a conversation with China and stopped because it was impossible. Their rift was caused by such a massive betrayal of trust that there was nothing he could say that would get through. Japan knew that trust, once so decisively shattered was impossible to regain, but that was another reason why Greece's rather idealistic, western idea was not going to work. What was worse was that he could not actually remember the true details. From the time Nagasaki was bombed to about a two months afterwards, he had laid in some sort of coma which was filled with endless nightmares. He had no idea himself which of his memories were real or simply bad dreams. All he knew were the cries of his lost children, the weight on his shoulders and the unrelenting shame of not only defeat, but of being so wrong.

But America had been there when Japan woke up, one of his worst fears came true - he was occupied, and by the British Empire's blue-eyed boy no less. For something that had been so terrible in a nightmare, the reality of it, for all the hardships, was not as bad as he had imagined it would be. What did surprise Japan was the extent of America's own guilt. How did they overcome the memory of each bitter battle across the Pacific? When exactly did he look upon the rebuilt cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and realize that he had forgiven Alfred? When had Alfred done the same for Pearl Harbor? Japan was forced to acknowledge that is was the honesty. There was never a long, soul-baring talk per-se, but they did have the reality of working closely together to rebuild, each and every single day. They did not hide behind false courtesy or pretended amnesia, they acknowledged what had happened and worked through it until one day they realized they actually were friends.

Japan had hoped in the beginning, that reconciliation with his family could be as possible as it had been with America. He championed development aid to his superiors where he could, thinking that working collectively towards a common goal would foster the same environment of moving forward. Somehow Asia's economy grew, but the old mistrust stayed the same.

"Can you honestly see China or Korea sitting down with me to talk about the past in any reasonable manner?" Japan asked derisively.

Greece did not even blink. "Well it's telling that you keep thinking about your brothers, but maybe it's safer to begin with the countries that actually have accepted your apologies. That may be easier. We're being hosted by one, for starters."

Her image came unbidden - not the twenty-something she appeared to be now, but the child he knew her as, that little girl that cried and reached out to England even though he had failed her utterly. Japan knew that Singapore had forgiven him mostly out of practicality. She needed trade and investment, it was her life's blood. He had always felt that neither of them really wanted to confront the past, and that by doing so, he could destroy the relationship they had managed to build since her independence. He also wondered if she ever forgave England for breaking his promise to her. Could that be why England attempted to get blind drunk? (Not that he needed much excuse).

Once upon a time Japan knew England very well. While Singapore would never be as important to England as America or many other former colonies were, Japan knew that England remembered his failure to defend Singapore acutely. It screamed out in every English textbook - the "worst disaster" and "largest capitulation" in British military history. She was only a micro-nation at the time, one that no one expected would ever have a chance on her own. Considering the fact that England as the British Empire and had gone to war with almost every single existing (and some no longer existing) nation on earth, the insistence on remembering this defeat was surprising.

He was silent for too long, thinking about such things, and Greece sighed, putting the now dripping towel away. "Well, think about it at least. And in the meantime, we get some sleep."

Japan shook his head. "No, you go to sleep, I'll...read."

Greece in turn raised an eyebrow, his face, despite the injury, took on that familiar seductive gleam. "Or...we can do something more fun." He pouted suddenly. "And look at my face, I think you need to kiss it better," then a smirk as he lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against his ear, "And then you need to be punished."

Japan felt his cheeks burn red but he make no move to stop what was coming. He knew that Greece was trying to distract him. He knew that they were both hoping that maybe dreamless oblivion could follow in the wake of satisfying, physical and sexual exhaustion, but deep down he knew better. On his own, there was no escape and a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him.

As Greece leaned in for the kiss, Japan clutched him close but also wondered if tomorrow, he should try England's ineffective solution.

Tomorrow he would have to sit through a useless day of sessions.

Tomorrow he would have to continue to be lost in the darkest time of his past, with all of those involved sitting in the same room as him.

Tomorrow he would try alcohol poisoning.

At least that was what he told himself as he let Greece pull him down.

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><p>*Before Singapore's most popular island resort was named Sentosa, it was called Pulau Belakang Mati, which literally means 'Island of Death from Behind' but was more easily called 'Dead Island'. Just don't tell the kids that...<p>

*Japan has issued numerous official apologies for their conduct during the Second World War. Some apologies were even accompanied with reparations, or reparation offers (as long as they could be paid directly to the families, and not delivered through the other government as a third party). Some countries believe these apologies to be insincere, because convicted war criminals are still commemorated at the now infamous Yasukuni Shrine, which was founded to commemorate those who died in service to Japan from the Meiji era (which predates WW2). Japan has also been one of the largest distributors of economic aid in Asia, and the largest distributor of aid to China. There's a lot of politics surrounding aid, so I'm reluctant to say that this was purely charitable (there are a lot of rules that are dictated by the aid donor such as 'I'm giving you money for this development project, so I say that you need to choose vendors from my country, and this money gets back to me eventually anyway'). However, since China has started providing aid to African countries, Japan has been wondering whether or not they ought to continue being so generous.

This is not a one-shot, but will be updated less frequently than _The Tomato Princeling._


	2. Ghosts

**Disclaimer**: Hetalia is not mine

**Warnings**: Mature themes, war, supernatural

**Characters**: Japan, Greece, England, Australia, India, New Zealand, America, Thailand, Taiwan, Portugal (OC), Singapore (OC), Malaya (OC)

**Pairings**: Japan/Greece, Australia/Singapore, England/Portugal, past Japan/Thailand.

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><p>"Lacks that kick that it used to have, doesn't it Sir?"<p>

England grunted, looking up from his drink - by this point, taste did not matter, just the smoothness of it as it ran down the back of his throat, and the oblivion it was supposed to promise. Sadly, it was not doing it's job. He remembered everything about the past quite well, and this spectre from that era was not helping.

"And how would you know anyway..." he grumbled while glancing at the markings on the speaker's uniform. Unfortunately, the name was blocked, covered in blood. "Corporal? I simply cannot imagine that you've been able to have a drink in, oh, more than seventy years?"

Half of the face in front of him twisted into an affronted frown. The other half of the soldier's head had been blown away, hence the blood splattered all over his khaki uniform. "That wasn't very nice Sir."

They looked at each other in the eyes for a moment, before England pushed his glass away and raised a hand to order another. He then shook hands with the ghost in front of him. "You're right of course Corporal, that was rather uncalled for. It's not been my best day."

The bartender placed a full glass of whiskey down and hurried away. He was used to drunks doing all manner of foolish things, such as shaking hands with invisible friends, but England knew that somewhere in the recesses of that bartender's mind, he knew what was actually occurring.

"Well here," England shoved the full glass in front of the Corporal. "I'll need your name in order to make this as an offering to you don't I? That's how it works around here if I recall."

One eye and most of a mouth grinned. England could almost imagine the young, eager and energetic man this Corporal must have once been. "Thank you Sir! Corporal James Alexander Tyburn of the 18th Infantry's my name. Proud native of London Sir, how is my city doing these days?"

England smiled, feeling an unexpected warmth within and for his heart, it . "Rebuilt and thriving...after a fashion. The current economy has us all under the weather, but otherwise, London is just as alive as ever. Changed a little with the times of course, gotten older, wiser, more cultured and a little more wry. Londoners still come from all over the world, but my heart's still the same place you left."

"Glad to hear it! Also, I must say Sir, that after all these years of just being ignored by everyone, sending them away screaming, or being met with prayers and holy water, it's rather nice of you to sit here and have a chat with me. I know I'm not pretty."

England shrugged and muttered the words of offering, before offering a small smile to this ghost who had decided to haunt him. A human would require prayer and ceremony to accomplish the same, but he was more than just human, and this soul had died in his name, so there was some extra power here. James eagerly scooped the drink up in a bloody hand but stopped just short of drinking it, embarrassed, before holding it out for a toast. "A toast to you Sir! To home!" He stopped for a moment, before adding with a wry smile, "Hail Britannia."

There was a pang in his heart as England raised his own glass and . "To valor and bravery. Chin-chin." The glasses clinked and England took a full gulp.

There were ghosts all around him, some from his wars, and some from before and after. He noticed with some amusement a few Japanese ghosts turning to stare at them oddly for the toast*, but for the most part, the living and dead left each other alone. He had long since become used to the fact that he could see ghosts at all, in addition to the other denizens of the hidden world. However, he often forgot that few of his fellow nations could. How could they be so thoroughly separated from their citizens even after death? He was especially confused that the ghosts of soldiers, and others who died in the name of their countries, could be so abandoned by them.

As the British Empire, he had gone to war in almost every land in the world. He admitted that yes, he had even killed some nations, but with every death there was an opportunity for new nations to be born as well. When nations became Empires, their minds changed. Empirehood could be compared to a drug - taken in small doses in the beginning, such a state assured a nation of its life and status, enriching its culture and strengthened the hearth and body. However, too much medicine or time within the Empire state was addictive and powerful. Before long, paranoia would set in, as well as the simple addiction to have more and do more, under the guise of survival and protection. During this time, a nation's potential for wisdom and glory was at its highest, but so too was all their potential darkness, greed, jealousy and ambition. Portugal had warned him about this when he was younger, but even that warning did not prepare him for the reality of the Empire mindset's reality.

One of the side-effects of Empire that no one warned him about however, were the ghosts. There were ghosts who died for the British Empire scattered all over the world, and thus, no matter where he went, they gave him no respite. For his part, England felt that the least he could do for these souls was to treat them well, or at least as amicably as possible when they recognized him. Not all were happy for the causes they died for after all. He found that it was much easier to have a pleasant chat with those who at least knew they were ghosts, such as Jimmy here, but it was quite difficult to endure those who had no idea they were dead, and wandered around angry and confused at the ever changing world around them. He tried to avoid those as much as possible, but it was difficult to do so, the world was rather crowded with souls waiting for the next stage of existence.

"How is it now Jimmy?" England asked his ghost for the evening. He wondered how it would play out this time - would the boys take turns speaking to him one at a time? Would it be Jimmy alone for this whole trip? Or was Jimmy simply the bravest of the lot, sent over to break the ice before inviting the others over? It never ceased to amaze him how consistent souls behaved, whether living or dead. It did amuse him how much easier it was for him to be sociable to ghosts and spirits than to those alive with him.

"It certainly tastes much better when it's offered to you Sir," the young soldier smiled. "I guess that's the secret. Tastes like ash otherwise. Now I know why those Chinese ones always hang around where their descendants now live. They get little shrines dedicated to them you know? Recently they've also been getting fancy stuff - those flat electric paper screen things and entire wardrobes full of clothes!"

England raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to offer you a phone, an iPad or a computer Jimmy, how in the hell would you use it?"

Jimmy gave England another disappointed look, but shrugged. "Alright Sir, I guess I was pushing my luck there. Wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. Glass of whiskey is the best I've had in a while."

With a nod, England set his glass down and took a curious look around the bar. "It's rather crowded tonight isn't it?" He remarked. It was strange that in addition to the living, the dead mingled in great numbers. They were regular ghosts, but these all seemed more powerful than normal, he could see them so clearly. He saw some actually touching things in the living world, some were even stealing and causing some mischief - things that drunkards would not think were out of place the next morning. While ghosts were everywhere, they usually did not appear with this clarity, except on All Hallows Eve in his own home.

"Oh, right." Jimmy shrugged, "Well it has to do with the Chinese calendar, from what I hear. Most the people in Singapore still believe, so we follow their rules. Apparently this is the Chinese Ghost Month. Funny huh? Back home we get a day. Over here, we get a whole month."

England groaned. How could he forget the Ghost Month? Right up until 1997, Hong Kong lived with him, keeping a Chinese calendar in his home, faithfully tearing away a page a day to divine auspices, luck and celebrations from his home. The Ghost Month coincided with the Chinese equivalent of July - the seventh month of their calendar.*

"So it's true then." England replied. "This is the month that the gates between the living and spirit world open and the dead come to visit the living, thereby having greater freedom to wander on this plane."

Jimmy spread his hands wide as if to say 'do you need any more evidence?' "I didn't used to believe in it either, but it's rather difficult not to believe it now."

England sighed, pinching between his eyes. This World Conference was going to be exhausting. "It's because of the land, and as you said, the people of Singapore believe. Your brothers and sisters who fell in Europe are bound by different rules."

"Well damn it, I'm not sure I like the sound of that Sir. Here I thought everyone was united in death but no, there are different cultures and rules just like it was when we were living, and probably all the mess that follows after too. I've had enough of that. I just want my turn to move on. It's been nice seeing the world change and all, and considering how well things turned out, I'm not exactly regretting dying for this island anymore. Hell Sir, I've even made some friends I probably wouldn't have made in life." Jimmy indicated a couple of soldiers standing in a corner, enjoying the view of the sea. They wore various uniforms. England could make out the usual British, Australian, Indian, Malay Regiment and Singaporean volunteer uniforms, but he could also see a comparable number of Japanese Imperial Army personnel and civilians too.

"I'm impressed." England remarked, eyebrows raised. "How long did it take for all of you to realize that you didn't need to fight anymore?"

"Too damn long Sir." Jimmy answered. "But in our world, at least around here, it's more about the generation you come from. We don't quite understand the kids that came after us, and the older ones don't quite get us either. Besides, the ones that are more difficult to deal with are actually the Doubters."

"Doubters?" England asked, even though he knew the type that Jimmy was likely speaking of.

"The ones who refuse to believe that they're dead. Well, refuse to believe or unable to believe, I don't know which. I mean look at that chap over there." England's gaze followed Jimmy's hand. "He's missing a whole head! And he still has no idea! He goes haunting Japanese tourists, and he doesn't know any better, so he goes and haunts the Chinese and Korean ones as well. Got us in trouble one time when he picked on this young Thai couple and they went and called some monks to cleanse the place. Right bloody nuisance that was." Jimmy leaned forward, as if eager to discharge a shameful secret. "Don't judge me, Sir, but I've hoped that he would just run into the ocean by now or something since he can't see, but I suppose he's got the same instincts that govern all of us and he won't. Oh well." He shrugged.

England cracked a sad smile, feeling sorry for those Doubters, the trapped ones. In a way, Singapore island was a small box that many were forced to live in together. Ghosts did not like the touch of seawater, and that was an ancient rule still followed in many places in the world. Then he lost all semblance of a smile because he felt regret for all of them - all of these children that were called up in every generation, their futures and ideals stolen, often fighting for something less grand than they were told. Although as far as wars went, England had to admit that the Second World War was one of the ones that had been worth fighting.

His major regret, the one that had driven him out tonight to find solace in a bottle, was this greatest failure. He had failed the good, young and eager boys like Jimmy Tyburn, who were sent to this island with little preparation for the fight that came to them. He had failed Singapore that day - the little micro-nation he initially never wanted for all the trouble that upstart Raffles had started with the Netherlands - but, he had grown fond of her anyway. He had also betrayed her brother Malaya, had gradually destroyed his inherent warrior spirit, only to leave him defenseless. Regret was an odd thing, because England knew he had betrayed and failed many nations before, only to forget about those with the next cup of tea, but the Fall of Malaya and Singapore...these had been such an avoidable failures...so avoidable, that he could never forget.*

He looked up at Jimmy Tyburn and remembered the boys who played and splashed on the beaches like there was no war going on in the rest of the world. He remembered holding little Singapore in his arms and telling her that there was nothing to worry about, just look at his ships, look at the big guns!

He remembered the devastation that came instead, the dead, and the helpless fury he felt sitting in that meeting room to surrender to a too smug Japan. Japan, his old friend, whom he could not recognize.

He looked down at his glass and realized that he needed a lot more than this to forget, even for just one night.

"Sir! Major Kirkland! Sir!"

England looked up in surprise to find that he must have become lost in thought. Jimmy looked like he'd been calling out for some time. England took the opportunity to raise his arm for a refill even as he smiled at the young (or old?) soldier. Raising his glass again, he hoped to wash his mouth out, a mouth so bitter with the memories of gunpowder and soot stuck on his tongue. "I'm sorry Jimmy...I was lost in thought there for a moment."

"Yes you were, hey you! Shoo!" Jimmy waved his hand irritably at England's face, but England figured that it was not directed at him. He felt a weight lessen from his shoulders and his mind clear somewhat.

"Sorry about that Sir, they get stronger this time of year and they're able to sneak up on you. Those are the Downers you know? They feed off bleak thoughts and regret. Ah I'm sure there's actual names for them but I just call them whatever I feel like."

England glared down at the little blighters that had managed to sneak up on him. These did not even look human anymore. For a second, he wondered what America would do if he could see this, and chuckled to himself. Looking at the soldier in front of him, he sobered instantly. That was the other terrible side-effect of speaking to ghosts - it was almost impossible to get drunk. Resigned, England knocked back the entire glass of whiskey in one gulp. "Just call me Arthur, Jimmy."

The bartender, unhappy about serving a customer with an invisible friend, finally just left a full bottle next to their glasses and disappeared. England poured both glasses without worries, he had set up a tab after all. Let the poor man go serve other inebriated customers, beautiful women in bikinis and the young, well-built men trying to impress them, or their richer, older counterparts. Let everyone else get lost on beaches built with imported sand and music with nonsensical lyrics. England would spend some quality time with the past.

It was going to be a long night.

A few hours later, England was happily stumbling back to his hotel room. Jimmy had eventually called his friends over, and they had a roaring good time reminiscing about the positive aspects of the past. Also, England was finally blissfully drunk. He was thinking that maybe tomorrow would not be a complete waste. Sure, World Meetings were hardly productive, but maybe, just maybe, he would ask Portugal if she was interested in joining him for a drink. It had been too long since they caught up properly, and though officially they were still friends, he was honestly rather nervous being in her presence since the Africa fiasco. Yes, yes, what were World Meetings good for if not...what was Japan doing there just standing in the hallway?

God, he looked absolutely terrible - pale, cold, exhausted and angry. Feeling suspicious, England forced himself to focus on the area around the other nation and his theory was confirmed.

England sighed, feeling sober again. It was too damn late to be dealing with this, and how was it that at nearly three thousand years of age, Japan could be so clueless and insensitive to what was happening to him? But this was Japan, and one of his less positive strengths was denying or avoiding uncomfortable truths. For a moment he wondered if he should let Japan in and try to let him know what was causing him discomfort, but ultimately decided against it. England knew he was in no state to be dealing with angry ghosts and lost nations tonight. He was also quite finished with regrets and bitter memories...damn Japan for ruining his own state of drunken oblivion.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Notes<strong>:

*'Chin-Chin' - means 'cheers', but also means 'penis' in Japanese.

*In addition to the Gregorian calendar that most of us are familiar with (January, February, etc), many Chinese families also refer to a traditional calendar which dates back to 256 BCE.

This calendar is generally used for festivals (Chinese New Year, the Mid-Autumn Festival), and to find auspicious days for weddings, funerals, business and other major personal decisions (the calendars tend to be pretty detailed as to what you're supposed to do like...re-tile your roof on this day, but try to start between 11am and 1pm. 2pm means bad things... :o ). It's a lunisolar calendar, and the ghost month tends to fall somewhere in Gregorian August. It's also called 'Chinese July' (to refer to the 7th lunar month of the year in the Chinese calendar). It's actually more of a Buddhist and Taoist tradition. The belief is pretty much as described in the fic.

During this month, food, entertainment and other offerings (such as afterlife currency, clothes, and nowadays even iPads and iPhones) are presented to the ancestors. Food is placed in specific shrines, concerts are performed and other offerings are burned to make the journey into the other plane. I took some liberty with England and Jimmy by saying that the rules are kind of different for a nation.

Even though the spirits technically leave on the 15th day of the month, often certain rituals and activities are observed the entire month. It is also a month where people are more careful, avoid going out at night and avoid major events (you sure as heck don't get married during this month).

The festival is also practiced in Japan and Vietnam.

Singapore is of course, a multi-cultural and multi-religous nation. Currently however, the island-nation's racial and cultural majority is Chinese. While I'm admittedly not clear on what younger Singaporean-Chinese think of these traditions, I know that the older generations still take these beliefs quite seriously (it also depends on the religion that the families still practice). The other ethnic groups that live in Singapore (and Malaysia), understand that during the month where you see an excess number of shrines and incense outside...you steer pretty clear. The other thing to note about this region is that superstition is not considered a separate belief, but is very much entrenched in everyday life.

Source? I grew up with that calendar, but if you'd like to know more...Wikipedia is cool -

Chinese Calendar: wiki/Chinese_calendar

Ghost Festival: wiki/Ghost_Festival

* While the popular belief is that the British were so convinced that the Japanese would attack Singapore with a naval assault, that they were completely unprepared for and invasion through Malaya, there's a little more to the story than that. It's kind of true, but what's also true is that MI5 had intelligence from as early as 1937 that the Japanese would likely land in Malaya and invade Singapore by land. Who knows why this intelligence was dismissed? No idea, maybe it was simple human fatigue - by this point the British had already been through the First World War and fighting all over Europe, Africa and Asia in the Second. The Allies were falling and only Britain and Russia were really standing (America had only just entered the war). Maybe the guys making the decisions were stretched too thin everywhere and just didn't make the right call this time around.

Source...erm, this documentary is pretty interesting!: BBC's The Great Betrayal – The Fall of Singapore - youtube watch?v=erO1ytrUGeI

*The other popular belief is that Malaya was abandoned without a fight and the British trusted the 'unpassable' Malayan jungle to hold the Japanese back...while completely forgetting about the rather good highways they had built all over the peninsula. As a result, the Japanese simply bicycled over these highways down to Singapore and took both Malaya and Singapore easily.

Well as it turns out, the British actually did have a plan to pre-emptively destroy the Japanese invasion force - Operation Matador. They just delayed the plan for a day, and on that day, Japan invaded (SURPRISE!).

Allied troops and local volunteers also did fight and give their lives to defend both Malaya and Singapore - British, Indians, Australians and Malayans. The problem was probably a result of priorities. Malaya was invaded on December 8. Thanks to time differences, that meant a few hours before the attack on Pearl Harbor. After America entered the war with the Allies, Churchill and Roosevelt decided to focus on ending the war in Europe before tackling the East. As a result, supplies, funding, experienced troops and equipment simply didn't make it to the East. The Japanese troops however, were veterans who had been fighting it out in China since even before Germany invaded Poland. It was a case of an experienced force taking on a less experienced one and winning.

And yes, as a result of such prioritizing, the strategic decisions around defending Britain's eastern assets were half-assed. Considering that Britain was fighting for its own homeland's survival in Europe though, that shouldn't surprise anyone. It still does mean however, that the troops who did fight in the East were unfairly short-changed.

Source: A lot of great books on the 11th Floor of Singapore's National Library. Shortcut source is Wikipedia again -

Malayan Campaign: wiki/Malayan_Campaign

Battle of Singapore: wiki/Battle_of_Singapore

*Yeah, in my football fic, Portugal is a man, now I'm seeing what it would be like with that nation as a woman. I actually prefer this idea of the big sister of Europe. Also...isn't England so easily...shippable? With anyone? I do like reading England/Arthur in the usual USUK or FACE family shenanigans, and I love AsaKiku fanart, but I'm in the mood to try writing something else. I like toying with the idea of him still being alone in the modern era because he thinks too much. Poor Iggy. I do love you. Believe it or not.

And Portugal? England and Portugal have the longest standing diplomatic alliance in the world...they've grown apart, but were once close. But Empire...kind of gets in the way of healthy relationships, and it's a state that both of them have gone through.

About Empire, I like the idea that England being by his little brother's side is a mind-opening experience about the whole Empire state, and it causes a lot of self-reflection on England's part. Something that he and Japan both need to do together for this particular chapter of their past.


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